


Curtain Call

by LinaLuthor



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, F/F, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, auditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinaLuthor/pseuds/LinaLuthor
Summary: Ingrid has played the piano her entire life, making sure she's the best musician she can get to be. This has taken her to the Enbarr Conservatory of Fine Arts, where she pursues a higher education in music and fills her spare time with practicing. However, the fact that she never got called back by the auditions she has tried makes her wonder how she can do better. A thought that haunts her even more so when she's about to tryout for the Mittelfrank Orchestra.The one person to see through her facade and actually get to know her better is Dorothea, who recently got accepted into the Mittelfrank Opera Company herself. As they finally get together again after months on the afternoon before Ingrid's audition, they get to talk about a lot that had been left unsaid.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Act One

**Author's Note:**

> So I totally blame the angst FE talk going around in the Fódlan Olympics discord server for this, but there you go. Some Dorogrid angst for the soul  
> Check @Fodlan_Olympics, guys! That's one hell of a nice project with a lot of talented people (who sometimes talk about the angst but don't we love it)

Music surrounded her as her fingers hit key after key on the imposing piano in front of her, the melody soon becoming everything Ingrid knew. She had practiced that piece for so long, she didn’t even need to look at the music sheet spread in front of her, both right and left hands coordinating and going exactly where they were supposed to. Her digits stretched, jumped parts of the keyboard for all the highs and lows, increasing in tempo and then softening, flowing from _crescendos_ to _pianos_ and _pianissimos_ at turns.

Luckily the room was almost empty, apart from her and Professor Hanneman, but his presence was enough to set her on edge. He had been her greatest critique for the last four years she had been at the Enbarr Conservatory of Fine Arts, studying piano on a daily basis and relishing on the fact her scholarship had let her do so for the entire duration of the course. Her family back in Faerghus had been upset with her announcement of moving away to Adrestian territories, said she could find much better in Fhirdiad if she chose to. Cheaper, too, they had added- and money had always been a huge issue between her, her siblings and father.

However, nothing was more prestigious than the Enbarr Conservatory and all that it entailed. Its proximity to the Mitterfrank Opera Company was just a nice surplus, something that helped her decision and made her even more hell bent on pursuing her dream of being a musician, part of an actual orchestra. A nice dream it was – and she made sure it was put into motion as each and every day went by.

Thus she had trained and trained some more, sometimes for longer than her professors deemed necessary or even healthy. She had sustained lesions, too, but assured her mentors those were nothing and was more than happy to ice her hands, stretch or do whatever they advised her to. She never missed classes, rarely agreed to invitations for a weekend out or something of the sorts. As a result, and due to the fact that she wasn’t from Enbarr to begin with, she became a bit isolated and had no one but her roommate to talk to – when they even saw each other after all. Although both studied in the same institution, their schedules were vastly different and again, almost all of Ingrid’s free time was filled with practice.

That was, apart from one other girl, a lovely soul who had bent out of her way to crack through Ingrid’s isolating demeanor and managed to become her best friend in that entire world.

Her fingers pulsed to the melody, heartbeat increasing in tempo as her hands did so. She knew the music, knew where her mistakes usually were, what she should do to avoid them. Stretch your fingers a bit more in this part, she had been told, and did so just in time. Don’t go too quick on your semiquavers, another advice that she followed. Her heart beating faster and faster as she realized that for once in the last two months she had been rehearsing this, she might actually get to say she had played it flawlessly so.

She finished the piece, her hands halting to a stop on a _pianissimo_ that she had added a while ago and her teachers had let her get away with, as at least that fit the theme. She panted the slightest, since it was a rather long piece, and took a moment to raise her eyes from the instrument she had loved since she was a child, to the instructor who scrutinized and frowned at her.

“That was… splendid, miss Galatea.” He said, taken aback for some mysterious reason. “I can say for certain that you have mastered this work. Technically, that is.” He added the last part in a softer tone, as if grudgingly.

Her gaze met his at that moment and she froze, sensing something akin to pity behind it. That was new. Usually his words would be carried with sternness, as if he were judging her unfit of being there. That had been her perception of those long stares he had given her all that time, at least. But then, it was almost in her nature to think so – there was always a voice in her mind telling her to do better, after all.

“What do you mean, professor?” She inquired in a meek voice, a bit defeated by that already. She had been practicing forever, to the point that her best friend had asked her to please do some physical therapy once she noticed how much her wrists hurt.

“There is something lacking in your performance. I have been meaning to tell you this for a while, but I do know you well enough to understand where to stop, where you’ll just keep unnecessarily pushing. I have seen you play since your entrance exams, after all. Do you remember that I was there?”

“Hm, y-yes, I do.” It had seemed like a lifetime ago when she went into the Conservatory for the first time, trembling from head to toe and wondering if she would ever be able to charm the examiners, to convince them she deserved a place in their prestigious institution. She had been seventeen at the time, almost eighteen actually. Years had passed and she had learned what to do with that anxiety, turning it into fuel for her to become a better pianist. “Why do you say so?”

“Do you recall what I told you back then?” He inquired, arms to his side, stance more open than she had ever seen him. Eyes unjudging and serene, gauging her response.

“Something about… being myself more often, even more so if all I desired to play was classical music.” She recited, could hear his soft voice saying that to her younger self. An advice she didn’t really know how to take, but had heard time and time again during those four years spent there.

“It still stands. Of course that doesn’t make you a bad player or unfit to study here, but on a professional level… Ingrid, every time you play, I see the keys being hit with the variations the compositor asked for. I see your technicality, yes, and it is as stupendous today, as it was back then. But I don’t see you. Your feelings. What you’re experiencing not only when you play it, but when you’ve listened to this song for the first time.

“Music is more than an assortment of notes put together on a sheet. And I know you more than understand this. I need you to feel this, now. To translate it into your playing.” He concluded, sighing as if it had pained him heavily to do so. In a sense, it had. She was his most prized student, that was sure, and the entire Conservatory deemed themselves proud to have her.

Also, he had seen her react very negatively to critiques before, even if they were meant to make her rest and evaluate herself as a person, not her technique. These would usually lead to her training more, to the point of exhaustion. He would never forget the one time he had caught her actually asleep over the piano, a few minutes before class was about to begin.

“I… thank you, professor. I shall work on it.” She nodded, her cheeks already turning a shade of crimson at that, emerald eyes now downcast and focused on the instrument in front of her.

Which was exactly the answer he had dreaded. “No, please. This is more than enough for today. You do have a big audition tomorrow, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, and I need to train some more before– “

“No, I strictly forbid you to do so. You can listen to the song if you want to, but no more practicing. Go rest, hang out with your friends. Have a drink or whatever it is that people your age do in a city like Enbarr. I’ve heard the night life is quite… active. Not that I know any of it, myself.” He chuckled at the last sentence, at the fact that he was actually giving advice for a young girl so she could decompress.

She was at a loss for words. It wasn’t the first time she had been told to not overdue it, but surely not in that particular way. Something inside her hurt even more than when the man had simply told her to put more emotion into her playing – something that, truth be told, she had no idea how to do to begin with.

Ingrid had grown up making piano practices a priority. If she was sad, she would train. If she was happy, the same. A test that had gone wrong in school, her father being a bit sickly or a fight in between her friends? Ditto. She buried her emotions somewhere deep within her mind and gave herself over to the music, not to express her feelings but actually to distract herself from them.

An unhealthy coping mechanism, it seemed. She bowed her head and said nothing more, simply picked up the music sheet, her light brown leather pack and slowly rose from the bench. Closing the piano seemed like an act of failure, but she did so anyways just because Professor Hanneman was watching. Her eyes swooped through the empty classroom, the unoccupied seats on raised platforms, remembering how she had always sat somewhere central, on the front row. Focused, competent, grateful for that opportunity that had been given to her. She couldn’t afford to be anything else, after all.

Her steps echoed as she took the stairs toward the door, even though her body fought her every step of the way. She had an audition tomorrow, for the Mitttelfrank Orchestra no less, and she was going to be nervous about it if she didn’t practice as much as she could. But it seemed like life had other plans for her, after all. And honestly, how much could it hurt if she actually took a day off? Did she even know how to do that?

In the end she turned back to see the Professor eyeing her with that same pity as before. The look startled her, made her revolt against it. In the end it also made something warm flood through her senses as she remembered someone else also offering her the same advice time and time again. Someone that, she had to admit, even though she didn’t see very often, had become very dear to her.

Would it be a bad idea to visit her like that? She knew she had something important due the next day as well, but it might be nice for both to forget about it for a few hours. The thought made her smile, even more so when she turned back before leaving and said:

“Professor? Thank you very much. Have a nice day.” She bowed out of politeness, was content to see him nodding with a small beam upon his lips. Maybe this time she would listen to them. Just this time. It couldn’t hurt, right?

The moment she was out into the quiet Conservatory hallways, as it was indeed a beautiful Friday afternoon and most students were at their dorms or homes, enjoying a day off from classes due to the holiday in honor of Saint Seiros, she picked up her phone and dialed her best friend in the entire world. The only person to effectively break through her armor and make her smile no matter what.

“Hey Ingie, what a surprise.” Dorothea said in her usual singsong voice, sounding actually delighted to hear from her. “It’s been what, three weeks since the last time we’ve talked like that?”

“Oh hey… sorry about that, really, I meant to call you more often but I knew you were busy with your own rehearsals and stuff.” Ingrid apologized, a first when confronted like that. Usually she would tell whoever it was to mind their own business and remind them to go practice instead, but she had never been able to do the same with that girl.

“Heehee, aren’t you a sweety. But honestly, I’d love nothing more than to gush about those with you. And everything else that has been going on in the Company and my classes. But what do I owe this honor?” Everything had been said in a soft, gentle tone, even though the last sentence carried the slightest bit of mockery.

“Well, I was...” She realized a bit too late her heart was beating a lot faster than usual, much as it had been when Professor Hanneman had been evaluating her progress on the piece. What was wrong with her and why was it that Dorothea seemed to bring those things to her? Taking a deep breath, she went on: “I was wondering if you were free today. I, hm, I miss you.”

The silence that followed was more anxiety-inducing than actually uttering those words. She could feel her cheeks turning crimson as seconds ticked by. Ingrid stopped walking, noticing she had just left the Conservatory, and tried distracting herself by thinking what a beautiful day it was, with the sun shining over the small garden in front of the building, clear blue skies and one of those afternoons that made one think there was nothing to worry about.

She more than wished she could relate.

“D- Dorothea? Are you in there?” She tried again, sure she had never stuttered so much in her life.

“Yes, I’m very much here. Sorry, hm… someone said something and I got distracted.” The lie was so blatant, neither of them really bought it. “Anyways, yes, I’m free in about a few minutes, but you can come right on over, honey. It’s not as if you weren’t about to score your place here on tomorrow’s audition.”

Ingrid could picture her giving that endearing, encouraging wink of hers as she said those words. Felt a knot of anxiety and anticipation for said event start dissolving. Maybe Hanneman had been right and the last thing she needed was to sit with those feelings while practicing. Maybe, just maybe, talking to the person she treasured the most in the world would be more than enough.

“Is there really no problem?” The blonde asked again as she resumed walking, looking both sides before crossing the streets.

“Nope, the theater is cramming with people who’ll do the audition tomorrow. You know what they say, get to know the competition or at least the place where you’ll compete. It helps with nerves.”

“Ok then, I’ll be there in around five or less.” Ingrid answered, smiling and a lot more carefree than she had been a few minutes ago. The prospect of seeing her best friend even allowing her to forget she had been criticized earlier on.

“Yes! No turning back like last time, do you hear me? Or else I’ll drop by your tryout tomorrow, then clap and shout so much you’ll have to kiss me to make me stop.” Dorothea said in her singsong voice.

Somehow Ingrid didn’t doubt that would be a lie, she thought as she hung up and put her phone in the front pocket of her jeans. The thing was that imagining the scene made her feel… a bit warmer than she should. She shook her head. It was the middle of summer, of course she would be warm anyways. Even more so since she had left her dorm in the morning while wearing a dark blue hoodie and had yet to take it off – and people were starting to stare as well, she noticed, most of them in frilly dresses and shorts.

She grimaced at the sudden attention, but removed the coat nonetheless. Carried it in the hook of her arm during the short distance in between the Enbarr Conservatory and the Mittelfrank Opera Company, where her best friend had scoured a job as resident soprano about half a year ago and was about to go into her first performance as the lead singer somewhere around next week.

_Somewhere around next week_ , she thought, chastising herself for not knowing exactly when that would take place. She had vowed to go and watch her premiere, as the brunette had done with most of her performances outside of school. Hell, how many times had Dorothea walked her to and back from auditions, usually holding her hand and soothing her, making sure she had eaten and stretched her hands in those days?

Not that Ingrid ever had been called back from one of those tests, she grimly admitted. No matter how much her ability with the piano was praised, or how evaluators would say they were impressed with her and she was definitely on their radar, somehow that had never been enough. Such results were expected of fledging students in the Conservatory, or so she had been made to believe.

She couldn’t look at the entire matter with so much leniency anymore. Her last year as a student was about to end and soon… soon she would have to look for a place to stay, to begin with. Her father and siblings said they would be ok with supporting her financially with housing until her studies were over. Now however… well, it would all be up to her and of course the first thing she needed to get was a freaking job.

Something that paid her more than the usual stunts she did in several cafés and ritzy restaurants she played at during the weekends, more for fun and the praises than for actual cash. Those would never offer her the stability she needed to figure out what to do with her life once the grounding routine of studies was taken away from her.

That was another important factor she took into consideration when applying to the Mittelfrank Orchestra several months ago. It was all she could dream of at the moment and exactly what she needed to start her life as a musician in a city with as many opportunities as Enbarr. Plus, it would look amazing on her CV and, as Dorothea had so subtly put it, “it’ll let us stay closer for a while and it doesn’t hurt to try, right? You have the talent, Ingie.”

The blonde sighed and felt the first tendrils of fear wrap around her once she was in front of the theater. She had grown up looking up images on the internet or on magazines of that amazing place, had been more than keen to go there when her parents put together some money so she could attend one of its performances in her eighth birthday. Now there it was, always looming outside of her dorm room and easily visible from the Conservatory, its silvery walls and etched pillars on the outside, the grandiose entrance in dark wooden doors that looked heavy to push, but were actually pretty light and easy to the touch. All the promises of grandeur, of finesse and amazement that it radiated simply for its architecture and size.

She looked at it and felt small. Undeserving. Unneeded. Had to take a few deep breaths in order to center her thoughts and remember that she wasn’t there for the tryout yet, just to meet with her dearest friend – and yes, get to see the place where she would be evaluated on the next morning. It was fine. It would be fine. For the rest of that day, she would only have fun and take everything worrisome away from her mind.

Her steps were solemn when she entered the place, walking over the crimson carpet that went from the entrance to the main hall, where there was a ticket booth for last-time shoppers and another set of imposing doors leading to the amphitheater itself. There were also side entrances to aid people and not make everyone stay in one hell of a long line in order to get to their seats, hidden behind velvety, crimson curtains.

The floor was made of white marble so polished it reflected everything. So that when Ingrid glanced down she could look at herself, wondered if she wasn’t too underdressed for the occasion in her black, oversized jeans and royal blue shirt, the hoodie hanging from her arms and simple dark sneakers on her feet. More than that, there was a frown on her face that seemed to be permanently etched into it. A sure sign of her nervousness, even though she consciously knew there was nothing to fear.

That grimace dissolved the first moment she heard Dorothea’s voice coming from behind those doors, turned into the sweetest smile she had ever watched herself give. It both surprised and made her blush as well, self-conscious of it and glad there had been no one in the reception area to see her reaction to sound alone. But then, she mused as she meandered to the side entrance on the right, how could one not love that?

Ingrid stopped at the top of the stairs and could do nothing more than stare at the scene unfolding in front of her. She had been there before, not only on her trip as a child but on several occasions as a music student, yet was awed again in each visitation. This time, there was an extra element that added to her excitement and wide-eyed adoration of that particular theater.

Dorothea was center stage, as she should be. She was wearing a costume, a knee-length dress with small details in gold, a long cape and armor here and there. There was no wig this time, but her hair had been pinned up into a messy bun that made her face look even more stunning when the theater lights hit her just like that, in a perfect angle to highlight her cheeks, the gentle curve of her mouth and the iridescent glow of her emerald eyes. Those eyes, so pure at that moment and unlike Ingrid’s, which had been hardened with concern all morning and afternoon.

Her voice, however, was what drew everyone’s eyes to her. Each inflection and note, the soft caresses of _crescendos_ and _pianos_ that Ingrid herself had executed with technical precision a few moments ago, took life with her expression, with the way she smiled and became brooding if the song called for it. When she reached as low a pitch as she could, then slowly climbed to the higher notes she was more comfortable with, the blonde felt a shiver run down her spine, as something about the piece – no, the performance – spoke to her recent fears, to her deepest thoughts.

She knew her best friend’s voice. Had heard her rehearse several times before she got the place at Mittelfrank, seen the way she intoned and took care of each word, syllable and pitch as if they were precious parts of the whole picture she wanted others to feel when they listened to her. Had played alongside her on performances throughout their school years, and had gotten the brightest applauses due to their teamwork.

Although at times she had had to correct Dorothea on her music reading or the speed with which she was going through notes, there was no denying that she was… incredible, in a way so starkly different from her that there was actually no way to compare them at all.

In that moment, though, she felt strings in her heart being pulled by the melody she knew so well. It wasn’t a hard one on the piano, but demanded great technique from singers and other instruments. Yet there she was, performing it as if it were no different than walking around the beach on a lazy summer afternoon, her voice as ululating as sea waves crashing into the shore, soft, but also tempestuous in some cases.

Ingrid was almost sad when Dorothea brought the song to an end with the gentlest of notes. She couldn’t help but applaud, being the first one to do so. That, of course, made the other musicians and supervisor to turn and look at her, just as they joined with the claps as well. Oops. She shouldn’t have announced her presence like that.

Or maybe she should, since Dorothea’s eyes fell on her almost instantly and shone with a different light than before as they acknowledged her. If she had looked heavenly before, then there was no word to describe her then, with a wide smile in her face and the sense of accomplishment in her eyes. No, beautiful certainly didn’t cut it at the slightest.

“Ingrid!” The brunette waved from the stage, uncaring of who was watching and the fact that she had yet to hear an evaluation from her peers. “C’mon, join us here!”

The blonde shook her head and simply said: “Nah, it’s fine. I’m sure they want to talk to you after all. I’ll wait outside.” And before her friend could object or jump to the ground and actually usher her there, she did as she said, tried distracting herself with the sight of some other young adults coming and going around the place.

Yes, it was just as the woman had said after all, Ingrid realized as the other newcomers met her stare in a challenging way. Many of the musicians who would compete on the next day had decided to take a tour of their own, see what the Mittelfrank was all about and what they could expect in less than twenty-four hours. Apparently she wasn’t the only one on edge – most of them walked around with tensed shoulders, backs ramrod straight and steps almost too mechanical.

She would have felt sorry for them if she weren’t in the same state, though was trying her best to keep it out of sight.

“Ahhh I’m so happy you actually came!” A yell from behind interrupted her thoughts, was followed by arms encircling her waist and spinning her around for a brief while.

“Thea, not like that!” She protested, but couldn’t help giggling like a little girl at that reception. The songstress had always been very affectionate with her, even in the beginning of their friendship, when Ingrid had remained shut and almost refused to share her personal story with that chatty brunette.

“I’m still upset you didn’t go upstage with me.” She pouted, even though her eyes shone in amusement. She was being a tease as always, a stark contrast to the focused, ethereal being that had been singing mere minutes ago. “But it’s your choice, I suppose. So, want to take a good look around? As far as I know the tryouts will take place in the main theater, aka the place you were just at. A piano is scheduled to be moved there later today.”

“Hm, that’s interesting. I didn’t think they would keep us there. Usually the smaller auditoriums are used, right?” Ingrid frowned, felt her heart plummet at the thought of being where her friend had been moments ago.

She was used to more meager stages after all, not something so… professional. Traditional, even – the Mittelfrank had been there since unmemorable times, then withstood some reforms here and there in order to get better acoustics. There was so much history behind it, a factor that called to many including Ingrid herself.

“Yeah, my audition was in one of the side rooms, but then they’ll be evaluating a lot of people for the orchestra. Maybe that’s it.” She concluded, a little bit thoughtful. “But no matter, you’ll do great anyways.” The praise was accompanied by a smack to her shoulder, something lighthearted and sweet that made Ingrid smile.

It was so easy to beam in front of that woman. “Thanks, truly.” She sheepishly replied, shifting her weight around and fidgeting with her hoodie. “By the way, that was amazing. Really, you were… so beautiful, singing like that. It’s inspiring.”

“Pff, since when are you so soft, Ingie? First calling me up to say you’ve missed me, now praising me to high heavens like that? Are you feeling well, my dear?” Dorothea said in a jesting tone, placing the back of her hand to Ingrid’s forehead. “Hm, no fever at the very least.”

“Don’t be silly.” She said, was halfway into swatting her hand before deciding to gently ease it off by the wrist. Then found herself unable to let it go and kept holding it, unconsciously drawing circles on its back with her fingers. “So hm… I meant it, you know. It was amazing to see you sing like that. Has been a while, right?”

“Yeah, life got really rushed after I got into the Mittelfrank. What with it being our last few months at the Conservatory as well. It’s been tough. But hey, enough about this for now. What do you think about going to a café or someplace nice to talk some more? Unless you want to take a better look around?”

“Oh no, if anything I think it’d be better to get out of here before nerves come back. All those other kids around… it’s getting kinda creepy.” She said the last part in a whisper, as a girl swooshed past them and shot both an intimidating stare. “Jeez.”

“Yikes, you’re right. Not the best place at all for you to be in. I know somewhere with a really nice tea and some pastries, if you’re hungry.” Dorothea answered, beaming at the other woman and leading her outside. Their hands were still together, and she relished the touch way more than she thought she would. Something that made her wonder, but she remained silent about the matter all the same. “Tell me about you, though. How has life been like?”

“Well you got my message the other day.” They didn’t like texting as much as talking face to face or on the phone, but had to resort to that since both had been quite busy as of recent. The closer proximity, or at least a certainty the other person was there, had been missed. “I’m fine, just trying to get a better job other than performing in those bars, cafés and restaurants. Actually, if you’re taking me where I think you are, I’ve played there at least five times already.”

“Who knows, maybe they’ll let you get something for free then. And if you tell them I’m your date, perhaps both of us won’t need to pay anything at all.” The brunette teased, easily falling into step beside the blonde, who was known for walking briskly even if she had a clear schedule. Always in a hurry or on her way to get something done, that one. Her energy, as well as enthusiasm and focus, had always attracted Dorothea.

“Hmpf, they’ll ask me to take you there the next time I’m performing and if you’ll be so kind to do it free of charge.” They both rolled their eyes, well-used to how some people saw their jobs and careers as nothing more than a hobby. “But that’s a nice daydream anyways.”

“I tried, honey, I tried. Ok, so you’ve been doing some auditions all over, right? I think I saw your name on some signup sheets here and there. Or am I mistaken?” She asked that carefully, knowing the matter could be a sore one with her friend. Had watched her fret over jobs and positions since they had become closer during first year.

“Nah, you’re right. I’ve tried a bit of everything. A heavy metal band that was recruiting. A pop soloist who wanted a pianist to accompany them at least for practicing. A church which was looking to hire a permanent musician for rituals. You name it, I was there. But…” Her voice fell at the end. No matter how much she tried keeping a calm and collected demeanor about it, her sadness was as plain to be heard as the notes and tones both had so carefully studied throughout their lives.

“Hey, look at me.” The brunette ordered when Ingrid’s eyes went to the floor. It was a habit of hers, to avoid glances when she was feeling bad. “Ingie… I won’t pay for your pastry if you don’t.” She had to wait a second for it to work, then sighed in relief when it did. “Way better. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know. It’s amazing that you’re trying and have been. The worst thing you can do is give up and, I don’t know, apply for an accounting program next.”

A part of her, a rather childish one, was grumpy at hearing that from a girl who had pretty much nailed every one of her tryouts and even gotten phone calls from pleading directors, desperate for her to accept their offers. But there was no way she could simply dismiss those words as baseless. It _would_ be worse if she had never gone for those auditions. Or if she had caved to her parents’ and siblings’ words even before that and remained in Faerghus, without even trying to move to Enbarr.

“You’re right, of course, But still. It hurts too much to never get accepted into anything. And now I really, really have to as well. It’s not fair for my parents to keep supporting me like this. I’m no longer a child that can’t do anything. It only feels like what I can do is never good enough.”

The words left her mouth before she was completely aware they had been uttered. When her brain finally did catch up with them, she placed a hand in front of her lips and stared at her friend, wide-eyed, unsure what had come over her to get her to say things like that. They were the truth, of course, but still. It wasn’t like her to be so open.

“Hm... so that’s how you’ve been feeling, eh? You should have told me earlier, Ingie.” Dorothea replied, turning to look at her friend. They had stopped in the middle of the street, still on the way to the café. That was too important to simply be dismissed as chitchat, to not get all of her attention at once.

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spoil this with all that babbling and- “

“Hey, no, no. Please, if anything I want you to tell me stuff like that. I care about you, you know. A lot.” At this point, the brunette, fondled her knuckles and watched for a response, beaming to herself when she realized the blonde was blushing. “And it’s not good to keep bottling up these sensations as well. Now come, let’s talk this over some nice tea, chamomile as you enjoy it.”

Ingrid didn’t know exactly what had touched her the most, the fact the other girl wanted to listen to her despite everything, despite them being apart for so long and only exchanging occasional messages here and there; her remembering her favorite tea flavor or everything else in between. It was too much, though. She felt tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, to the point that she knew she would spill them if she were to speak – hence she simply nodded and was grateful when they started meandering again.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had been that emotional in front of someone else. Didn’t know that those feelings had been so close to the surface, just looking for a moment to emerge for a breath after too long spent underwater. It was unwelcome, given what she would have to do the next day, to say the least. Scary, to be that vulnerable in front of another human being, to say the most.

Yet she couldn’t deny how uplifting it was when the human being beside her simply beamed in encouragement and ushered her forward, taking her hand instead of holding her wrist. The silence that enveloped them wasn’t uncomfortable, but a mere spectator to what their conversation would bring.

“I… I remember you have something big coming up tomorrow, too. Don’t you?” Ingrid inquired once they had taken a seat outside the café and placed their orders. It was a beautiful, warm afternoon and by then the sun was almost setting, coloring the sky with stark oranges, yellows and pinks. They sat in cozy, iron chairs placed outside, more than glad to have that as background to their talk.

“Yep! Tomorrow we’ll perform to our sponsors and the director. That guy you saw there was just our voice coach, he’s amazing and gave me so many tips that Professor Manuela forgot to, or something.” Dorothea answered, sounding excited at the prospect. Not that she had anything to fear or lose – her talent was too plain to see even when she was just speaking, her voice lilting and crystalline.

“Are you feeling good about it? I mean, it’ll be your first time doing something this big after all.”

“I’d be lying if I said I’m not nervous – I am, truly. It’s something else to sing in front of those people, you know. The higher ups. And I wanted to keep practicing today when you called, but Coach did tell me to take it easy or else I’d end up straining my voice. So… I’m more than glad you did reach out.” With that, Dorothea splayed her hand on the small, circular table, then edged forward and started playing with Ingrid’s fingers. “I guess we both needed some time off.”

“Yeah, you shouldn’t overdo it at all. It’s not as if you had to as well, you’re amazing.” The blonde retorted with a small smile, thinking back to what she had heard. Wishing she could have watched that from the beginning. 

“Pff, as if it weren’t the same with you. You surely don’t need the practice, little Miss Perfect Pianist.” The brunette teased, though all that praising was finally starting to get to her. She didn’t want it to stop; no matter how other people were keen to say she was good, it felt different when it came from Ingrid. “Pray, what made you call it a day earlier than usual? I’m grateful you did, but still curious.”

“It’s not the same.” She protested in a small voice, then went on before the other girl could say something: “It was Professor Hanneman, actually. I told him to watch me play earlier and correct some stuff before the audition. He just said… that I should give it a rest.”

“And wasn’t he right.” She snickered, tracing the back of Ingrid’s hand with one sole finger, causing a shiver to run down the other girl’s arm. “You’ll probably do more than amazing tomorrow.”

“Ugh I don’t know! I mean… I did end up making no mistake, but… he just said the same thing you and every other professor has ever told me before. And now I’m wondering, is that what I’ve been missing in my performances?” Ingrid complained, actually distressed this time, glad to have the chance to stop and gather her thoughts when their drinks arrived.

They nodded to the waiter and took a few moments to sip their teas in silence. There was a lot that had been left unsaid, they realized. A lot that had been bottled up for too long, thoughts either suppressed or turned into fuel for practice times that usually extended well into the night.

It was only natural that those things would end up spilling out like that, when their natural, unhealthy outlet wasn’t an option. Talking was hard, painful even, as words that had been longing to get out for a long time tried escaping all at once. There was no coming back now, though. She had shown her heart to Dorothea, more than she had ever done with another person in her life, yet was surprised at how little she regretted it. How little it hurt, when compared to keeping so much in.

“You… you do realize you’ve been doing it all this time today, right? Showing your emotions, that is.” The brunette spoke softly, not wanting to scare the other girl or cause her to clam up like she had so many times in the past. “And Ingrid, dear, it’s so beautiful to see. I… of course I’m hurting for you. Wishing I had had the courage to talk to you earlier, maybe asked more questions. Or at least not left you hanging for all this time, despite how chaotic life has been– “

“Oh, no, don’t you dare blame yourself for that when I was just as bad. I… should’ve said so much more before, Thea. The thing is, it feels like I don’t know how to. Or didn’t know how, at least until now.” Had it really taken them one free day from their busy schedules, after almost three months without seeing one another, for this to really happen?

“Ok so, how about we start from scratch instead of just keep thinking about whose fault it was?” She proposed with a gentle smile, was more than happy when the gesture was reciprocated. “Some ground rules, though: One, no speaking badly about yourself. At all.” She was just as guilty about it, had been fiercely rebuked by Ingrid in the past whenever she had a bad day and ended up calling herself names. “Two, no apologizing either.”

“Agreed, as long as these apply to you as well.” Ingrid answered, experiencing a strange, light sensation in her chest. It was the first time she had been able to breathe so freely, or so it seemed. “Just one more question before we start, when’s your premiere again? I’ll make a note in my phone and all that.”

“It’s on the next Wednesday, actually. Gosh, time does fly by.” She gave a nervous giggle at that thought. “Will you try to be there to see me?” Dorothea inquired, winking in a mock, seductive way.

“Oh, absolutely. Nothing’s more important to me than watching your debut.” The blond retorted, taking some courage from the intimate moment and lacing their fingers together, their hands warm and fitting in a way that seemed almost perfect.

Almost…She shook her head, dismissing the silly thought. “Let’s start then. I’m Ingrid Brandl Galatea and I’m a pianist, but recently I’ve been a bit… upset with the way things are going. Including how the one person I care about has been too far from me for the last few months. What about you?”

“You’ll have to elaborate on that, Miss Galatea.” A quick laugh, an arched eyebrow. A tinge of hope, lacing itself in her bloodstream. “But well, my name is Dorothea Arnault and I’ve been missing the most important person in my life.”


	2. Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the tryout and Ingrid couldn't feel lighter after everything that happened the day before. However, a phone call coming right after her performance might change what she started believing in for the last few hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for the songs right here, what I had in mind for Ingrid's piece were either Ludovico Einaudi's "Oltremare" or, if we were to pick something from the FE universe, "Desire Below", which plays in FE Fates.  
> For Dorothea, although Celica isn't the one to sing Heritors of Arcadia, that's the final song that is mentioned in her performance.

Later that day, when night had already fallen and they finally said goodbye, Ingrid couldn’t believe how much better she was feeling, thoughts about the audition reduced to almost nothing more than a background noise in her mind. A quiet hum, at the best. It was the first time she was confident that things would work out, that maybe there was something else for her out there instead of spending days and nights in front of a piano, practicing until her hands burned and her back ached due to how rigid she had been.

She was humming to herself when she got to the dormitories, then made a beeline to her bed after complimenting her roommate Annette with a quick grin. Realized too late she had been singing Dorothea’s aria from earlier on and blushed, smiling fondly at the memory.

It had been such a nice day, all things considered. They had talked well into the night, asked for more and more tea cups, then pastries and all the food they could consume without having to wash dishes for payment or risk dragging their credit cards into the red. It had been good to be that carefree, to smile at the songstress’s anecdotes about the Mittelfrank and her own classes, to be mock flirted and flirt back as she gained the confidence to do so.

Too tired to actually change into proper sleeping clothes, she simply removed her phone from her jeans and fell into the mattress, wondered why she couldn’t stop thinking about their moments together even when she was about to fall asleep.

It had been a while since the last time she had slept so well, all things considered. No dreams or nightmares disturbed her and she actually rested, a first on the night before an audition. Actually, she was slumbering so deeply that her usual alarm went unnoticed, dismissed as a loud neighbor or someone playing indoors.

She would probably have gone on like that if Annette weren’t kind enough to recall she had somewhere important to be at 10 am and resorted to shaking her awake a little after 9.

“Hm? What’s going on?” Ingrid groggily muttered, wondering why her roommate was looking so concerned at her.

“Your, hm, alarm sounded half an hour ago but I didn’t want to bother you, Ingrid. You looked soooo peaceful too, been a while since I’ve seen you like that.” Annie said with a smile. “Then I remembered you have that tryout today and I was like ‘heck, you can’t let her be late, she’ll kill you if you do!’ and here we are.” The girl said in a hurry, wondering if she had upset the pianist.

Those words took a while to be processed, since she was still very much asleep, but the moment they were, Ingrid jumped to her feet in alarm and pecked Annette’s forehead, much to her surprise.

“You’re a lifesaver, Annie. I’ll come back with some dessert for you.” The blonde hastily said as she picked up what she called her ‘audition clothes’ (a plain dark blue shirt, which she buttoned all the way to the top and tucked its ends inside white trousers, plus black shoes with minimal heels), while tugging at her hair and trying to adjust it so it’d turn into her usual tresses soon enough.

Luckily it wasn’t too late and the Mittelfrank was actually close, so she was even able to enjoy the semblance of a breakfast, then braid her hair and make sure she had everything she needed in her backpack before bolting out of the door. Funny enough, her nerves had yet to come back – she hoped they were still asleep, or had been kept away by the adrenaline of having to do things fast in order to not lose the tryout to begin with.

Her feet stomped the pavement on her way to the enormous theater, which had always loomed on the horizon and now became closer and closer at each step. The morning was as beautiful as it had been yesterday, a wide, clear blue sky that offered many possibilities and a sense of calm. Her chest was light and she smiled, actually relieved to be going there instead of dreading yet another tryout, yet another possibility to be told she wasn’t good enough for them.

Instead, her mind went backwards even as she went forward, glad there weren’t many cars around and she could allow to be distracted. Recalled how she had pretty much grown up playing the piano out of love. Imagining the story she had been told, of how at age three she had been too bored at a family gathering, then after pouting for the longest time simply stood up, made her way to the living room and sat in front of the grand instrument they kept there, was more than happy to keep hitting its keys for hours and hours on end while humming along.

Music had been more important to her than school itself and she used to keep watch on the clock instead of paying attention to classes, counting the time before she could run home and sit in front of the small keyboard her family could afford for her. One day, on her tenth birthday, that keyboard was no more and she came home to a sleek, black piano perched just under the stairs. After that, and her getting into the National Junior Orchestra of Fhirdiad, nothing else mattered.

High school was a breeze punctuated by afternoons, evening and nights spent training, refining her gift and her technique with instructors and fellow players in the orchestra. She was more than an ok student and her grades never plummeted, even if her focus was less academic, more music-oriented. She would be caught smiling with her headphones on every time she could get away with it, eyes closed in a daydream.

Playing the piano had always been her life, she mused as she stepped into the Mitttelfrank and announced her name to someone on the staff. It had been her calling, something that had been in her blood maybe. Today would just be another day when she would do just that, the thing that had filled her life with so much joy, so many colors, sounds and dreams. She would honor it, the gift that she had been granted, all the places it had led her to, all the people she had met.

Including a certain songstress who… had yet to leave her thoughts in that particular morning – or make her stop smiling for some reason.

The place was already packed with people of several ages, some as young as Ingrid, others older, yet regardless of age it was clear they were tense. She recognized some of them from the Conservatory and the many times they had played together. They carried cellos, violin and flute cases with shaky hands and unstable stares.

Perhaps a few auditions ago she would have been happy to join their ranks and succumb to nerves. Or maybe her talk with Dorothea had been just that good, that wholesome and everything she had needed all this time, to clear her head and keep doubt at bay. Sure, in a few minutes she would have to get upstage and perform, but it would be fine. Even if she failed, it’d be more than fine. Her life wouldn’t end because of it; she would just be given another chance to try again.

With that in mind, Ingrid was actually beaming when her name was called and she was ushered into the theater by the side entrance she had taken the day before to meet the singer. Her feet no longer stomped the floor, but glided through it as her mind finished skimming through the past and finally focused in the present, at where she was. Shoulders relaxed, stance calm, she climbed the stairs to the stage and bowed respectfully to the five judges who were already taking notes, sitting on the audience.

And when she placed her music sheet on the piano and sat on the bench, the last of her anxiety dissolved, was replaced by a sense of being grounded, of the fact that every single thing would be ok with her. She settled in, made sure the height and distance were appropriate for her body and placed her fingers upon the first keys she would need. Then mentally counted to three.

 _One._ Her body was ready, heartbeat thundering as the reality of what she was about to do caught up with her. That was fine, she would need such emotions for this piece, would need the internal turmoil that had been festering inside of her to be translated into her hands.

 _Two._ Her breaths became stable, accepting, no longer fighting against her lungs in order to leave them, the way they usually did before a tryout began. They flowed through her, as natural as it should be. As natural as she wished her playing would be.

 _Three._ Her hand tensed for the briefest second, just the necessary amount for her to not stumble over the keys, but also allowing her for greater freedom of movement. A new, welcome change to the rigidity that would enclose them the second she started playing to evaluators of any sort.

There was no tension, no tug of war inside or outside of her. Music just encompassed her, became her everything, just as it had been before, when she was younger and learning how to play. She remembered last afternoon, as she spoke to Dorothea and her voice had carried away so many feelings previously left unsaid. So many thoughts that had never been given an opportunity to be spoken aloud. Realized she could do the same with her hands, telling a story – her story – with inflections, notes and rhythm.

And so she did. At times smiling as the melody carried her, then frowning and feeling the sting of tears at the most dramatic parts, Ingrid Galatea told her story to all who had ears to listen, during the following eight minutes or so. Not even once was her technique betrayed, the _crescendos_ , _fortissimos_ , _adagios_ and _pianissimos_ striking when they were supposed to, whispering and caressing at other times. Her hands hit the right combinations, fingers traveling apart and closer together to make sure all notes were accounted for, a small part of her mind keeping count as it always had. As it always would, no matter if the judges declared her unfit for their orchestra.

She had been denied opportunities in other places, had amazing jobs taken away from her throughout the last four years, she knew. But the one thing that had never been snatched from her was her passion for music, for being able to make those amazing sounds all come together and bring to life pieces she had long admired. That would never be theirs to take, no matter who they were.

With those thoughts in mind, she floated through the song she had selected so long ago, when her mind had been too focused on winning, on doing better, on being accepted. Without even realizing she was already… herself. And that was more than enough.

It was bittersweet when she brought the music to an end with the _pianissimo_ she had previously inserted into the piece, yet even that sounded different to her trained ears. There was something extra to her notes, something that hadn’t been there for the last years or so. That was… feeling. Longing, to be more exact.

Her eyes focused on reality once the piano grew silent, the last sounds echoing through the amphitheater in a harmony of their own. Ingrid shook her head, realizing she was still smiling as she got the music sheet she had as always not needed to read and sprung to her feet. Noticed the looks of surprise the judges tried to hide while she bowed, took her backpack and left the way she had come, feeling so free and light she was almost afraid she would float.

It was surreal to step outside the theater, ignore all the stares she got from fellow competitors and get out of the building. The sun felt amazing on her skin and she couldn’t help but smile, almost giggle at the many, unnamed sensations beating alongside her heart.

A buzz coming from her backpack made her remember she hadn’t checked messages in a while as of then. She fished for her phone and immediately clicked on Dorothea’s contact information, uncaring about the several messages left in the family group for the moment.

_Sooo I’m done with it!_ , she typed, leaning against the theater walls. She would rather call the other girl, but was wondering if she had overslept as well.

Her fears were unnecessary, as a few seconds later Dorothea started typing and answer came faster than she thought possible. _Omg, I’m so happy! Sorry I couldn’t be there, woke up 3 seconds ago. Also why won’t call ya._

_Ingrid: Pfff you know I love ur voice <3_

_Dorothea: Again with being a sweety, staahp. Now… HOW WAS IT???_

The blonde giggled at that, the excitement so clear even through text. She wondered what her reaction would have been like live.

_Ingrid: Idk, don’t wanna jinx it but…_

_Dorothea: buuuuuuut?_

_Ingrid: I… I’ve never felt so –_

Her text was cut short by a phone call, which made her smile since she thought it was sweet of her friend to actually resort to calling. She had been taking forever to answer that message, but then it was hard to put into words what she was feeling at that moment in time.

That was why she immediately hit the answer button and started, in a happy voice: “So, I don’t really know how to describe it, but- “

“Ingrid?”

The voice that said her name wasn’t Dorothea’s melodic, soothing one at all, but from someone she used to speak to on a daily basis. Before those calls had halted, then dwindled to pretty much one or two conversations a month at the very best. She had never asked why her siblings had stopped calling, or even her father at that. Had meant to ask her older sister Natasha through private chat, since she had never been one to lie to her. However, the pull of daily, relentless practice and the upcoming tryouts always ended up distracting her, making her forget about that.

“Tasha? Hey, I haven’t heard from you guys for a while.” She said in a light voice, not at all meant to put blame on anyone. If nothing, she should have been the one to reach out.

“You would if you read the damn chat, sister. Or answered the phone when we called.” The woman retorted, for once not her usual, peaceful self. Her voice was strained, though at first Ingrid had thought the reason behind it was the fact it was a long distance call.

“What are you talking about? I’ve just answered it and yeah, it’s been quite a couple of days here.” She said, the slightest bit miffed at that. Was she being judged out of the blue? By her supportive, sweet sister no less?

“It’s been quite a couple of _months_ here too, you know. Or rather, you don’t know. But then that was father’s wishes and we chose to respect them.” The last part was added in a whisper, in a begrudging way.

“Natasha, stop being so vague. What’s going on?” Her previous good mood at the way she had played completely evaporated, as if it had never been there before. Maybe it was just hearing that familiar voice, as well, that triggered her into going back into being her old, closed off self. The Ingrid no one but Dorothea had bothered to get close to.

A sigh, then the woman started again in a much gentler tone: “Well, it’s not your fault anyways. Sorry. But hm… Ingrid, Father has been sick for the last four months or so. You know how he sometimes fainted out of nowhere and the likes, right? Well he… finally agreed to go to the doctor, but it was too late. His heart has been weakening for years.”

The blonde stopped, didn’t know exactly what to say to that even though her sister had yet to finish telling the entire story. Her carefree mood completely buried, almost as if it had not existed at all. She should have known it had been stupid of her to think better days were coming, or that something, anything, would change if only she looked at things a little different.

“And…?” She prompted, unsure if she wanted to hear the end of that but sure she would anyways. “Tasha?” She spoke again after too long had been spent in silence.

“I’m sorry it’s… too recent still. He’s in the ICU as of now. I’m about to go for the noon visitation but I don’t know, Grid. It doesn’t look good.” Her voice was broken, not at all the strong-willed, courageous older sister that had preened at Ingrid’s playing all her life long. “There’s one more thing, too, and goddess, I can’t apologize enough to you. We can’t pay for you to study at the Conservatory anymore.”

She blanched, felt her fingers going numb with the impact of all those words. Of everything being thrown at her like that at once, at the small amount of time they had been in that phone call. “What do you mean? I have a scholarship, I”ve always had one and –“

“Scholaarship? Is that what Papa told you?” The phone was quiet again and she could only hear Natashe sighing, thinking about how to go on. “Honey, there had never been any such thing. We’ve been paying for everything all that time. Tuition, housing, you name it. What you earn does help, but as I’m sure you know, it’s not enough at all.

“And what with Father’s being hospitalized and his treatment… we can’t just do it anymore. I… I wish there were an easier way to say this, I really do, but –“

“Sister, I need two more months. Two more months aand I’ll graduate, and I’ll be able to fend for myself in Enbarr and maybe even send some money home –“

“We don’t have enough for even the next month, Ingrid! We’ve struggling to get water and food at home, to keep paying bills and now on top of that juggling doctor visitattions and meds… There’s no other way. You have to come back and as soon as possible, too. We don’t know how much longer papa has to live as well.”

Ingrid had no words, didn’t know how to respond. Of course she was planning on visiting her father after hearing he had been hospitalized, but to actually be forced to give up on her education when she was so close to finishing it… and more than that, after hearing her family had been paying everything for her during that long time… It was too much. She felt too many things at once, some of them she didn’t even think she could put a name to.

But more than everything else, she felt like a failure. If only she had gotten a better job at some better place, if she had aced one of the many tryouts she had attended… Her family wouldn’t have been struggling like that.

“Little sister? Are you there? I… I wish I could- “

“Don’t. I- I understand.” It would be foolish of her not to, even if blood was rushing through her ears and her head spun. It had been too much at once, but she couldn’t fathom what it had been like for her family during the time she had been away. “I just… I have some stuff to do now, some packing as well.”

“Yeah, and please try to see if you can talk to your professors, the college faculty, someone about your degree. It pains me to take you away from there, but at the same time…”

“You don’t have to worry about this, Tasha. I’m sorry for being a burden for all this time.” She whispered, before hitting the disconnect button and almost letting her phone slid down to the floor. Her hands had gone numb, just as her entire body and mind had. She even forgot what she had done a few moments ago, or that she had suddenly stopped texting Dorothea.

Not that any of that mattered anymore, it seemed. There was no way she could abandon her family in times of need, not when they had supported her every single step of the way. She sighed, rocking her body from side to side as sensation returned to it. Dared to hope for one last time that her she could get at least a few days in order to make sure she did everything necessary in Enbarr before she had to leave.

The last three days had been hellish for Ingrid, but she stopped herself from complaining every time by thinking about everything her family had been going through as well. She was mostly on her phone for now, her piano practices reduced to the bare minimum as she said goodbye to the Conservatory that had been her home for the last four years.

Luckily she had explained the situation to the headmaster, no less, and not only did he understand her motives, but allowed her to take the final test she needed to earlier. After she aced that with the usual remark of integrating her feelings into her playing, she was awarded with an official certification on her completing the course and was informed her diploma would be sent to Fhirdiad once it was ready.

With her professors both congratulating and offering her father best wishes, she had what she thought was probably one of the saddest graduations ever, with neither Annette nor Dorothea getting word of it. The roommate could only watch as the silent girl packed her belongings that morning and offered no explanation, nothing other than a sad smile.

There was only one thing she had left to do before her sister came to get her that night. It was a rather brisk Wednesday evening when she made her way to the Mittelfrank for what she thought would be one last time. Although so much had been going on in Fhirdiad, she had at least been able to ask her family for this one thing, which they conceded given the fact her father had become stable and seemed to be improving with treatment.

And with those blessings, she had been feeling a little better about doing that. She _had_ made a promise, though, and she intended to keep it. Even more so after she had almost ghosted poor Dorothea after that call, just let her know she would be a bit busy for the next few days and that she didn’t want to impose, what with her debut coming.

Ingrid paraded into the theater wearing pretty much the same outfit she had for the audition – it was her best one, anyways – after leaving her backpacks in Annette’s care and instructing the distraught girl into giving it to Natasha Galatea once she arrived. Her sister would know where to find her, and yes, they would depart in that night still. But she wanted to make sure the person who mattered the most to her knew about that.

And maybe, if Ingrid was being honest with herself, maybe she could ask for help. And help would come that night, in some way or form. She had been trying the hardest to not hope, but the feeling as always kept nagging at her, refused to give up and leave her be with crude, cold reality again.

She got to her place, somewhere dead central and with the best view of the whole amphitheater. That had cost her a lot from her savings, but in hindsight it was so little compared to everything else. Dorothea would be there, would be the star tonight. And she wanted to watch every single moment of it from the best possible angle.

The Mittelfrank had been a big reason for her to go to Enbarr after all. It was only fitting it would be the last place she would be in before bidding the entire city goodbye.

Every chair was occupied, as it always happened when a play was premiering. She felt like the entire city was there, speaking in hushed tones about the plot and about their new main songstress, someone they had seen here and there performing on cafés, smaller plays and so on. Her name was whispered with reverence, something that warmed Ingrid’s heart and made her smile. It was good to see such a talented girl having her dreams come true like that.

Soon the lights were eased off and all conversation ceased. Silence ensued for no more than two seconds before the stage lights were on, covering a beautiful scenario complete with a beach and a temple. The orchestra began a little after that, with hushed tones and bated notes, awaiting the moment for the music to really pick up its pace and flood the auditorium with its power.

The blonde had a slight daydream about being there, almost invisible to the listeners, sitting on their grand piano and softly stroking the keys as Dorothea made her big entrance and sang the first crystalline note. She wore the same costume she had the other day, but her hair was obscured by a wig of wavy red hair. In that moment she was Celica, a so-called hero of old, lamenting the apparent loss of Mila’s blessings on once-fertile grounds.

From the first song Dorothea showed her talent, the way in which she could blend technique, grace and emotions in every single word. She was even more stunning in that night, shining from inside as if the stage belonged to none other but her. It did, that was sure. Even if she had another singer playing Alm, supposedly her co-star, she outshone him, the choir, the dancers and musicians as well.

To Ingrid, there was no one but the two of them in that place. She was even able to forget about her father, about learning she had never had a scholarship to begin with and had strained her family’s finances to the limit, only to never get a job and be able to give them something back. That moment was about Dorothea, the one to accompany her throughout the last four years. To show her care, patience and warmth even when she had tried shunning her in the beginning. The one who understood her fears, her motivations and… her.

The one who she wanted to be close to, no matter what happened. No matter how many years went by.

The one who would be taken away from her after that night, without her being able to say any of that.

There was no denying the pain that accompanied those thoughts, of the tears that followed. How her heart squeezed inside her chest, in such a different way that it had when she had learned of her father’s illness and her family’s sacrifice. It was a very distinct pain that came from separation, from longing. From want, from…

From love.

She had thought about it before, had rationalized her feelings as always and come to the conclusion there was no way not to love Dorothea. That everybody must automatically feel like that when in her warm, shiny presence. Unless… unless of course she had been overthinking matters and she did feel like that for a reason that stemmed way beyond the other girl’s charm.

And now that she could actually admit the actual word, think it out in her head as the girl she had _loved_ for a while sang about the end of the war, of letting humankind follow its own route, she knew that was all she would be able to do. Admire her. Watch her for that last time, before a whole country would be between them. 

Applause followed, thunderous, each clap another reminder her time was running out. Soon she would probably get a call from Natasha, demanding her to be back at the dorm so that she could drive them both back to Faerghus. It was too soon, still. Only seeing Dorothea in her debut like that wasn’t enough anymore. She would get a last conversation, she thought as she watched the songstress bow and raise her gaze to the audience.

A shiver ran down Ingrid’s spine when their eyes met, two distinct hues of green that complemented each other, had learned to read all the expressions and feelings that had gone through them as the years went by. Hence it was too easy for her to read the invitation that were currently in them, followed by the slightest tilt of her head in the direction of the backstage. Ingrid knew what that meant, simply nodded in response and prayed she had enough borrowed time to do that.

However, it wasn’t long until Ingrid was able to walk her way down the audience, after everyone had made a beeline and left, then up to the stage where she had performed a few days ago and to the place Dorothea had indicated before.

What took her by surprise was actually see the other girl there, sans wig, waiting for her even as the rest of the singers and musicians edged away, more than ready to wipe out makeup, get back to their own clothes and call that an amazing night.

It wasn’t hard for them to see each other, since although the aisles were dark they were also narrow and there was enough light coming from the audience as well. There was some nervous silence for a few seconds, before Dorothea tugged at the end of her long sleeve and muttered:

“I’m so glad you were able to make it, Ingie. I was worried, what with you not really saying what’s been going on…”

“Shush, Thea. This is your night and not the time to gush about me. You were… amazing out there. It was hard not to cry all the time, so beautiful your performance was.” She said with a smile, still trying to hold back tears due to another reason altogether. “I… I’ve never heard such a beautiful version of those songs, but surely they were made for your voice.”

“Oh, dear, you’re making me blush now.” The brunette said, was glad it wasn’t light enough for anyone to see her cheeks were actually warm.

“Please, promise me one thing. That no matter what happens, you’ll never stop singing. What you have is more than a gift. It’s…” She gestured, looking for a word and failing, her voice rising a bit due to the mixture of emotions making a knot in her chest. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. This was not how she expected the whole night to go, but she had to say that, had to make sure her talent would never be lost due to something else, external.

“I- I promise, yes. But promise me you’ll never start playing, please.” Dorothea answered, taken aback with the intensity behind those words. “Ingrid, I beg you now, tell me what’s been going on with you.”

“Well it’s… I don’t want to spoil your good mood, but it has to do with –“

“Hey, Dorothea! A bunch of fans wanna talk to you here. And we’re taking a group picture, director’s orders.” A voice came from backstage and too late they heard steps approaching them.

The songstress cursed under her breath, shaking her head. “Ugh, sorry for that. Wait here, ok? I’ll make sure it won’t take long.”

She was gone before the blonde could object, but there was nothing to be done after all. Even more so when her phone buzzed and she didn’t even have to look at it to know who it was.

_Ingrid: Natasha please, I need a few more minutes._

_Natasha: It’s almost midnight, sis. We have to go, find a place to sleep for the night. U know it’s a long trip._

_Ingrid: We can go tomorrow, then. If it’s that bad already._

_Natasha: I won’t sleep in your bare dorm, with you, because of whatever it is you haven’t solved before. Papa is waiting and I’m scared of being that far away from him for too long. Come back, or I’ll go and get you._

Ingrid couldn’t stop tears from falling after that, didn’t even bother to respond or wipe the moisture away from her mobile screen. All she had needed was to ask if the songstress knew anything about their feedback on her tryout. To say what had happened with her father, that she had had to graduate before anyone else and that she had to go, but didn’t want to.

To reach out her hand and ask for help, for a solution, something she more than likely was failing to see but would at least keep her in Enbarr for a while longer.

To say… to say that she loved her, way more than a friend should. Had loved her, for who knew how long.

Yet time had run out and she was out of compass, just as it tended to do when one started practicing with the assistance of a metronome. She had prolonged her stay until the last possible second, asked for extras to a world that did not care if she weren’t good with words, with opening up and talking about, or using music to convey her feelings.

A sob escaped her as she forced her feet to take a first, then a second step back, again stomping the ground on the way to the entrance, then outside. Her mind unwilling to accept what the future would bring for her, clung to the past. To every smile and conversation the two had had. To all the times they had collaborated and made amazing music together, in and out of assignments. For every treat, every shared pastry and stolen cup of coffee, for shared hands and the occasional hugs. For foolishly thinking she had forever to sort things out. That there was even a forever.

All reduced to fragments of memory, of unspoken words and songs that they would never get to play.

Taken by grief for all she had lost and all that would never be, Ingrid sobbed, cried and ran into the now pouring rain, ignorant to the fact that, inside the Mittelfrank Opera Company, a certain songstress frantically searched for her, calling her name and wondering what she had done wrong.

A few days had passed after Dorothea’s greatest debut. Ingrid and her had been texting one another, and that was how the songstress came to learn of everything that had been happening behind her back. A part of her was fazed at that, at how the blonde had kept so much hidden, had suffered on her own like that. However, she knew what it was to feel alone, like one’s a burden to those around them. She herself hid the sadness that overcame her at those news, at the thought of never again seeing the pianist she… had grown to love. A love that now wouldn’t be expressed, unless she were to sing of it in her arias in the form of a broken heart.

Ingrid herself barely had the time to feel the weight of being back home, of being told she could get a job in there and help the family since she’d gotten her degree after all. Of stepping into the familiar place she had rushed to after classes in order to train on her piano. The instrument went unused as she was pulled into the havoc of watching her father succumb to heart failure – or rather, to its complications – and wither away after telling his children his last goodbye.

Funerals were already a bleak business without rain, sudden cold and it being a small arrangement making everything worse. Or so Ingrid thought, as she huddled under her umbrella, encased in black shirt, trousers and shoes. She did her best to keep a solemn face, even though her mind was elsewhere and almost refused to focus on the casket being lowered into the ground.

Her green eyes were dry, whereas her siblings and uncles were sobbing into each other, almost unable to utter a word in between themselves even when they tried sharing memories of what a good person he was. She wished she could join, that her voice could work like it used to, before the knot in her throat was almost a permanent presence. There were no tears left to be shed as well, not after everything she had gone through those last few days, when everything had seemed serene and about to change for the better, but collapsed into itself to get her there.

After the last prayer had been uttered and people were working on getting the casket covered by mud and ground, Ingrid paced away from the setting and tried finding a place where she could be by herself. Dorothea had asked her to call – or message, as talking had become too difficult as of then – and as much as it hurt to keep contact with her after all that had been left unsaid, she couldn’t deny her that. Couldn’t deny the one support she felt was still there in her life.

She took her phone from her front pocket and unlocked the screen, was ready to message her when she saw an email notification pop up. Slightly curious, she clicked into it and had to keep in a gasp of surprise, anger, sadness and the first sob that had left her since the last day she saw the songstress that she loved.

_“Miss Ingrid Galatea,_

_It is with the deep, utter pleasure that we from the Mittelfrank Opera Company are writing to announce that you have been chosen to take part in our Orchestra, after the results from your audition were evaluated and put into consideration._

_Congratulations are in order and we hope to have you in our esteemed Company. Please, we ask you to report to the main building from 9 AM to 7 PM, Mondays to Fridays, in order to ensure your spot is secured, with your ID and other documents that shall be specified once you answer this email with your acquiescence to the position._

_Our sincerest welcome and best regards.”_


End file.
